


We Are Not Romans

by EmieB123



Series: Dumb Boys in Love [2]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: M/M, dumb boys being stupid, grantaire is a giant mythology nerd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-22
Updated: 2014-01-22
Packaged: 2018-01-09 14:40:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1147182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmieB123/pseuds/EmieB123
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Porn and The Iliad . . . what more do you want?</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Are Not Romans

**Author's Note:**

> this is so dumb im so sorry

“Oh, mon ange.” Grantaire threw his head back in pleasure, exposing pale skin it would be a sin to mar, but Enjolras prayed for his soul as he leant forward to leave bruises and lovebites and hoped that the gasps and whimpers that fell from Grantaire’s lips is atonement enough, for this is all of heaven he needs. 

 

“My darling dream of Paris.” Grantaire shuddered at a particularly well aimed thrust.

 

Enjolras froze. “Did you just call me Paris?”

 

Grantaire lifted his head dazedly. “Why’d you stop?”

 

Enjolras stared down at him, “You called me Paris.” He said slowly. 

 

“Yes, now move.” Grantaire whined, rolling his hips, desperately searching for friction.

 

Enjolras shifted but stayed frozen in place. “Why?”

 

“Because you are gorgeous and fickle and reckless, clearly cold Aphrodite has favored you to bestow you with such grace.” Grantaire’s eyes were soft, vulnerable in a way he rarely let show. It was almost sweet, for a moment, before he squirmed and complained, “Now fuck me, before I’m forced to add selfish to the list.”

 

Enjolras cocked his head and began rolling his hips slowly, teasingly. “I assume you’re not talking about the city, then?”

 

Grantaire laughed at that, no smirks or snide comments, a true all-out full body laugh that made Enjolras’ head spin (the way Grantaire clenched around him might have had something to do with that as well and he may or may not have let out a completely dignified whimper, but that was neither here nor there). “No, Enjolras, I am not talking about the city.”

 

Enjolras hummed thoughtfully, trying to think of a way to ask Grantaire what he was talking about without sounding like a complete idiot.

 

Grantaire must’ve caught the look of concentration on his face, because he let out a breathless laugh. “Come on, Enjolras. I thought even you knew the story of the great sack of Troy. Though I admit, I am a far cry from Helen, whose beauty was proved through the deaths of the thousands that fought in her name.” He paused and his eyes got that distant look Enjolras hated, “How you bear to share your bed with me, when you could have the likes of Helen is- is-”

 

He was forced into silence by Enjolras leaning over him again, covering as much of him as he kissed Grantaire soundly.

 

“Don’t you dare.” Enjolras growled as he drew back, thrusting at a faster pace, “Don’t you dare say you’re not good enough. You are worth the moon and stars and every beautiful thing on this Earth.”

 

Grantaire’s eyes fluttered close with a whispered, “Please . . .”

 

“Look at me.” Enjolras said, softening his voice and slowing to a deep, languid pace. When Grantaire finally looked at him his eyes were bright with arousal and unshed tears. “Fuck Paris.” Enjolras whispered, “Fuck Helen and Troy and anyone who had anything to do with it. We are not Romans, and we-”

 

And then Grantaire was laughing and cumming all at once and the tears found their way down his cheeks.

 

(Enjolras lasted only slightly longer before he collapsed by Grantaire’s side)

 

Enjolras lay there, contented to bask in the afterglow and Grantaire’s laughter. 

 

After what felt like forever, laughter dwindled into breathless chuckles.

 

“That wasn’t exactly supposed to be funny.” Enjolras grumbled. Not that he wasn’t happy Grantaire was laughing, but he thought he had a nice moment in the making before the giggle-fest started.

 

“No, no, it was beautiful, dear muse.” Grantaire leaned to kiss his nose before collapsing back into the mattress, shaking with laughter. “I should call you Erato from now on, that was so lyrical; or perhaps Thalia would be more fitting, considering the state I’m in. Either way, Clio is certainly out of the question.”

 

“And why’s that?” Enjolras questioned. 

 

“Clio is the muse of history.” Grantaire said, eyes sparkling, “And Troy was in the time of the Greeks, not the Romans.”

 

“Close enough.” Enjolras muttered petulantly.

 

Grantaire swatted at him half-heartedly. “They are most definitely not ‘close enough’, jesus, how did you even get through school?”

 

“I didn’t.” Enjolras reminded him. “I was expelled, remember?” (He was oddly proud about that fact.)

 

“Still, that’s some pretty basic knowledge.” Grantaire muttered, before standing unsteadily and starting to rifle through the mess of his room.

 

“What’re you doing?” Enjolras asked, yawning. (He was always sleepy after sex, tonight more so than usual.)

 

Grantaire pulled out his beat up copy of The Iliad triumphantly. “I am going to educate you.” He said, slipping back into bed. 

 

It took a few minutes for them to get settled. Unfortunately Grantaire needed his hands to turn the pages so Enjolras was forced to make a few changes to his usual clingy octopus routine to accomodate. Finally they were both happy with the placement of limbs and Grantaire looked down at the blond head resting peacefully on his chest.

 

“You are not allowed to fall asleep on me.” He said sternly, brushing a lock of golden hair.

 

Enjolras simply hummed and nuzzled into his chest. 

 

Grantaire sighed and muttered, “At least try and get through the first verse, alright?”

 

“Sing, O goddess, the anger of Achilles son of Peleus . . .” Grantaire’s voice was nice to listen to, Enjolras thought as he drifted off, but this sounded rather boring and he was far too tired to pay attention right now, and he was asleep within seconds.

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr is lesbianqueenofhighgarden


End file.
